Page 30 of Privilege

Great.

She was careful not to touch the woman as she leaned over her to knock on the door, but that didn’t stop her from glancing down. Pale, and with a bit of vomit on the side of her mouth, the woman looked like a sore fucking sight.

And it just made Lucia sad.

Who was she?

SIX

Renzo was done with being on his feet for the day. Entirely fucking done. As much as he loved his combat boots, he was starting to think he needed to wear something else on his feet if he was going to be running all over the place. With his head down, and his hands shoved in his pockets, he wasn’t paying attention to what was down the block. He was intent on checking in with his guys, then getting home to drop off the bag of shit hanging over his shoulder, and then he could go pick up Diego from the chick a few apartment buildings down who had agreed to watch him for a couple of weeks.

Renzo sighed, and dragged a hand out of his pocket to scrub down his face. God knew Diego would much rather go to the shelter daycare, but the idea of running into Lucia again put Renzo on edge. There was something about that woman that made his hackles rattle, and he felt like she was taunting him just by being alive.

He knew it was irrational. It wasn’t her fault that their lives were entirely different. She hadn’t chosen to be born to the family and wealth she had been given, just like he hadn’t chosen to be born like he was.

It didn’t matter.

Renzo figured the easiest way to move on from all of that shit was to put as much distance between himself and Lucia as he possibly could. That, unfortunately for Diego, included the daycare. Although, how long this would last was anyone’s guess. The woman babysitting Diego this week could only do so because she had time. Next week might be a different story, and Renzo would either have to figure something else out, or take Diego back to the shelter daycare. Which would make the kid happy as hell.

“You always lookin’ at the ground whenever you’re walkin’ somewhere, or what, shithead?”

That fucking voice.

Renzo reacted to that voice in such a visceral way, it was impossible for him to hide it. Like nails raking down a chalkboard, or a damn spike being driven right into his spine with as much force as possible. He got cold all over, and yet hot with anger at the same damn time. Stiffening like a board, and fisting his hands at his sides, he came to a stop as he lifted his head to find a familiar man leaning against the brick of a corner store. The same store Renzo used to meet up with his guys every morning before they headed out to work, and then again in the evenings when they had to check in.

In fact, Perry, Noah, and Diesel were there waiting for Renzo now. Which only put him on a steeper edge as his gaze drifted between his guys down by the payphone, and his father who couldn’t have worse fucking timing.

What was he even doing here?

Renzo swore this asshole only showed up in his life when he wanted one of two things—to either remind Renzo of the shit he came from, or to get money. A habitual gambler, a drinker, and an all-around abuser, the man was absolute scum. He’d never taken care of the two children he’d helped create with Renzo’s mother, and he only caused chaos and problems whenever he did show up into their lives.

It was like looking in a mirror as he regarded this man. Well, an older and shittier mirror, maybe. A disappointing, useless, cocksucker of a mirror.

Dark hair that hadn’t been washed in a few days.

Russet, bloodshot eyes.

Defensive posture.

Toothpick hanging out of the side of his mouth.

“Son,” Charlie muttered around his toothpick. “Heard you’d be walkin’ past this way around this time. Thought we should chat.”

Renzo’s jaw clenched, and ached from the force. “We don’t have anything to talk about. Pretty sure the last time we talked, you told me to fuck off, and stay there.”

And all he asked for was a place for Rose to stay after she had a blowout fight with their mother. Charlie had laughed, told his son to fuck off, and then slammed the apartment door in Renzo’s face. That was after it took Ren a few days to track this asshole down because God knew where he was on a regular basis.

Charlie shrugged, and tipped his head to the side to peer at the waiting guys. “That your crew, or …?”

“That’s none of your business. What do you want?”

Better to get his father on track, figure out what he could do to make the man go away, and be done with it. Renzo didn’t need Charlie’s brand of trouble, but especially not out on these streets where he worked.

“Want to know what you’re up to,” Charlie returned, those dark, bloodshot eyes darting back to Renzo’s. “I can’t come around to check up on my son? Maybe I was thinkin’ about you, and wanted to see you.”

That toothpick in his father’s mouth bounced with every word, and for some reason, the sight of it made Renzo’s blood boil. The man was so cool, calm and unbothered. Like he wasn’t standing there talking to one of the two kids he just fucking abandoned. Renzo had the strangest urge to take that toothpick, and stab it through his father’s eye just because he could and he bet it would feel damn good to do it, too.

He wasn’t the kind for violence. He could be violent, when the time called for it. A lot of his business on the streets was violent, in some ways. That was how he stayed on top, but it was also how he made sure no one else fucked around with him.